Hem of Your Garment
by adVENTitiious
Summary: How much can one person change another? Slight AU. Non-canon compliant. Gift fic. -TR/HP.
1. Chapter 1

**Hem of Your Garment**

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><p><span>Author's Note<span>: I am writing this as a birthday present for the insanely talented **cathartic**. You are the Remus to my Sirius, and I hope you had a wonderful birthday! Mmwuah!

This work is titled after the song by Cake.

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><p><strong>- Chapter One -<strong>

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><p>Fingers drummed one after the other, methodically, the not quite chasing thuds seemingly not reaching the ears of the surrounding students, their attention focused wholly instead on not attracting the hopefully expectant but falling gaze at the front.<p>

"No one? No one knows?"

Fingers stopped for a moment, hesitating in their proclivities as one, before starting up again.

"_No one_?"

A cringing silence regretfully filled the sixth-year Potions class in reply. Students of both red and green diverting their gazes down to their texts, some even flipping the pages in an effort to appear searching for the answer that was not to be found - all to avoid the disappointed stare of the potions master.

A begrudging sigh escaped barely parted lips, fingers stopping with a finality to rest heavily, splayed on the cool wooden surface. "I do, Professor." The spoken words enunciated and in a silky, smooth tone.

"_Oh_?" Horace Slughorn turned to his right, wide-eyed, his expression muddying for a long second before brightening, and an all-too-familiar smile made itself known on thin lips. "_Tom, w_hen did you get here, I didn't see you enter?"

Tom cleared his throat. "The answer is there isn't. Not yet at any rate. There are a few potions masters in Switzerland who have claimed to be able to ease the suffering of one infected with lycanthropy, but to able to prevent them completely from being overtaken by-" he paused, tilting his head, his sharp gaze seeming to cut through the professor. "The madness," he hedged. "It's not been done."

"_Very_ good, Tom," the professor said exuberantly, a chuckle escaping as he shook his head. "I'm not sure how you know about the Switzerland research though, its work has been _highly_ guarded."

A smile curled up the corners of the sixth-year Slytherin's lips. "I follow all potions work closely, Professor. I find it quite fascinating."

The professor nodded agreeably. "That it is. _That it is_," he said as he walked over to his desk, looking down in a distracted state to shuffle through a sizable pile of paperwork. "That's it for today. Next class we will begin brewing, I expect you all to be prepared well ahead of time, read the material and don't expect your partner to be able to make up for your lack of preparation."

Grey eyes narrowed. Tom ignored the furtive glances in his direction. Partner? That wasn't going to happen. "Sir, if I might ask..."

The professor looked up, chewing a piece of crystallized pineapple the Slytherin had gifted him as a birthday present their first day back. "Yes Tom?"

"There is an uneven number of students this year," he paused, allowing the older wizard to look around the room, resisting rolling his eyes as he double-checked. He spoke up over the potions master's incoherent mumbling, "And so, I was wondering if it wouldn't be better if I were to work independently for the term." He waited.

"Well..." The professor appeared to count the group again, his eyebrows furrowing. "Uh. Very well. You will be fine on your own?"

The wizard dipped his chin in a slight nod. "Of course, Professor."

"Right. Yes. Yes, very well, Tom." He looked back down at his papers, muttered under his breath again and then said, "Class dismissed."

The classroom livened immediately, a collective sigh from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor students resounding throughout the small room as if they had all been waiting on baited breath for the two words.

Tom stood up slowly as the sound of chairs excitedly scraping the stone floor filled the the area around him. Would he be fine? He held in the seething. What kind of question was that? He rolled up the parchment on which he had barely written anything - the potions professor, his Head of House, bumbling for most of the class in lieu of actually teaching - stuffing it into his bag and then his quill and ink well.

"Tom, don't let him get to you." A hand landed on the wizard's shoulder.

Tom shrugged the familiar hand off as he lifted the strap to his bag over his head and across his chest. He made his way towards the door. "I'm not, I just don't know how he ever managed to complete his studies," the wizard said in a clipped tone as soon as he and Avery had walked out of the class. He continued on with a scowl as his only friend chuckled by his side.

"We can't all be geniuses, you know," the blond wizard said as they walked along the dungeon hallways side-by-side.

Tom looked down, his hands shoved into his pockets. "I never said that's what I wanted. It'd just be nice not to have an imbecile for a professor."

"Have you found a date for the ball yet?"

Lips twitched in an upward fashion before being forced back down. "You say that as if it will happen," the dark-haired wizard replied dryly.

His friend laughed, but the sound cut off abruptly. "Heads up, Abraxas is waiting for us, and he doesn't look happy."

Tom's gaze shot up, instantly narrowing on the tall platinum-haired wizard, standing casually by the statue in front of their common room. He reached for his wand, pausing halfway to his inside robe pocket when the Malfoy heir's wand lifted immediately in response.

"A little jumpy today... _Tom_?" the seventh-year wizard drawled, his smile taunting as he lifted his chin, his wand pointing halfway between them. "Tell me, did you enjoy your stay at the orphanage this summer?"

Tom stopped, Avery following suit. He flicked his gaze down - finding the wizard with his wand out but its only target the stone floor, not having gotten to it quickly enough - and then back up. He smiled serenely as a hissing filled his thoughts. "You know, I have to say I'm surprised... I never took you for a fool, Malfoy, but it seems you can't help but turn into one at the slightest sign of a fight."

The tall wizard sneered, his expression darkening as his wand shifted more directly on him, "What are you talking about? _I_ am the one with the wand, _Riddle_."

Tom nodded readily. "True." He paused. "But do you know where Nagini is right now?"

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><p>Harry woke with a gasp. The sixth-year's gaze darted around the moonlit room, his chest rising and falling too quickly as he took in the night muted Gryffindor colors surrounding him. What had that been? He clenched green eyes close as the memory of a smaller Nagini, mouth open and fangs displayed, burned into his mind. And then a smiling raven-haired wizard replaced it, and it all made sense. "Shit, not again."<p>

"Harry, you okay, Mate?"

Harry blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain, and he looked over to see Ron rubbing his eyes and sitting up, mirroring his position.

"Yeah," Harry said in a rough voice as he leaned over and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table, putting them on as his brain unhelpfully continued to replay the dream he had just woken up from. "Yeah, I'm fine, Ron. I'm just going to get some fresh air," he said, pushing himself up and walking over to his trunk.

He leaned over as Ron mumbled his assent, pulling out his practice Quidditch robes and quickly putting them on over his pajamas. He grabbed his broom and turned to find Ron already fast asleep again. He shook his head, a grin playing at his lips as he shoved his feet into his shoes and then walked quietly to the door, pulling it open and slipping out. He jogged down the winding staircase and into an empty common room.

"_Harry Potter_."

Harry gasped and spun around at the hissed words, his wand already out. Sharp green eyes scoured the dark room, finding nothing that could have spoken the words. He glanced up at a sleeping portrait of Godric Gryffindor, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, as his free hand rubbed at the jagged scar on his forehead. One of the paintings was probably just having fun with him.

Harry placed his wand back in his pocket to carefully push open the door to the common room and stepped out into the abandoned hallway. He glanced left then right before he began to make his way quickly towards the nearest secret passageway, not wanting to run into the new staff. Sneaking out to fly in the middle of the night might not have been his best plan.

He was halfway down the hallway when a voice sounded around the corner, and Harry whipped out his invisibility cloak, quickly covering himself and his broom with it and stepping back against the wall.

"What do we do when we find him?"

"What we were told, you useless fool!"

"But it's no fun. Why can't we hex him a few times. Cut off his fingers or—_Ow_!"

"Shut up! The Dark Lord would kill you for saying much less. Now come on. Umbridge said he would be out here, so help me find him."

Harry reached into his robes and pulled his wand back out as he pressed himself as flat as he could against the wall, the Carrow wizard twins having just turned the corner.

"I don't see him," one of the brothers said, holding a lantern out in front of him, his eyes squinting at the seemingly empty hallway.

"Shut up!" The other twin looked around carefully. "Mr. Potter, where are you?" he asked, drawing out the words in a sing-songy voice, an eery smile on his lips as he scanned the hallway with a cautiously-sweeping gaze.

Harry breathed in slowly and then held his breath as the two sadistic wizards slowly approached where he was hidden. He really should have stayed in his room. He shifted his leg to scoot away as the wizards drew closer, and accidentally knocked his broom, causing the handle to scrape the floor, making a small scraping noise.

"Did you hear that?" asked the one with the lantern.

The one closest to him nodded. "I did, brother," he said and then reached out his hand suddenly, grabbing Harry's cloak and pulling it off. "_Gotcha_."

Harry lifted his wand, the disarming charm on his tongue when he froze. He couldn't move.

"There. _Now_ who's useless," the wizard said smugly as he walked over to Harry, grinning maliciously down at the immobilized Gryffindor, the lantern in his hand casting shadows on his curled face. He tutted. "Students shouldn't be out after curfew, Mr. Potter. You will have to be _punished_."

His brother let out a harsh laugh. "I don't know if this qualifies as punishment," he said as he pulled out something that looked like a modified time-turner and began to spin it lazily. "Although, I suppose Snape said there was the possibility it wouldn't work and would kill us all."

The other wizard scoffed, "The hell with that. I'm not going to die tonight." He grabbed the time-turner like object from his twin and placed it around Harry's neck, tucking it under his robes, his smile returning as he looked into frozen startled eyes. "Sweet dreams, Mr. Potter." He took a step back. "Let's get out of here before it goes off. His mind will take care of it."

Harry watched helplessly as the two wizards made a mad dash for the corner, and then he felt the chained object around his neck suddenly begin to burn against his chest. He tried to break free of the hex that was holding his body completely frozen. He felt his pinky on his right hand start to twitch, and then his other fingers began to shake under the effort and-

A bright blue light flashed before his eyes, blinding him, and he lost his footing when the ground below him felt like it shifted. He stumbled a few steps sideways and then fell, his head hitting something very hard. He groaned, his outstretched fingers resting on something smooth, something smooth that was moving, and then someone spoke in a wispy voice.

"Who are you?"

"I'm, I'm..." Harry tried to respond, his tongue heavy as something warm and wet trickled down over his eyebrow and onto his cheek, and then his mind was enveloped by darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**- Chapter Two -**

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><p>"You lied to him! How did you do that?"<p>

Grey eyes blinked. "I lie to him all the time, Avery," Tom said, not flattered, as he strode from Professor Dumbledore's office. He didn't trust him. He never had. He had never met a teacher who didn't like him, but Dumbledore did not. He could tell. The way he refused his requests every summer to stay at Hogwarts to _study_.

He scoffed mentally. The old wizard regretted ever finding him; he had heard his thoughts before. _He's just intimidated by me. Everyone is._ He chanced a sideways glance at the blond walking by his side discreetly. Except Avery, he amended.

He and the tall blond Slytherin, his only dormmate, had made friends near the end of first year, when he had come to find Tom - body-bound and stuffed in one of the knight's armor outside of Gryffindor, the seventh-years of the despicable House finding it great sport to gang up on a lonely first-year Slytherin.

He hadn't needed the help, he would have broken it eventually. He always did. But Avery, for all his good naturedness had decided to befriend him after that, and had pretty much given up other friends to do so.

It wasn't that Tom wasn't popular, no, he was very intelligent and well-liked. But wizards and witches alike grew uneasy if in his presence for too long. He wasn't sure why that was, but he had gathered by their increasingly nervous chatter and movements that he made them uneasy. So, he tended to keep people at a distance, where it was more comfortable, more safe—A hand landed on his shoulder predictably.

"You'll have to give me some pointers then. I can't believe Malfoy wasn't more ashamed, tattling like an ickle first year," he sneered.

Tom smiled ever so slightly, hiding how much he hated when the wizard's pureblood heritage shone through in his speech. He ignored the hand on his shoulder, Avery would only put it back when he got excited again, at least it wasn't wrapped all the way around him the way his friend tended to do when he was really worked up. "I'm not surprised. He pretends to be confident with his Head Boy title and family fortune, but Malfoys are weak. Weak-minded, weak willed. He'd make a wonderful errand boy."

A sharp laugh filled the space. "Don't let him hear you say that." The wizard glanced around them, his hand dropping from Tom's shoulder as they made their way down the stairway to the dungeons. "You really should try to make friends with him though. He's a prat, sure, but he comes from an important family, and with you wanting to go into the Ministry—"

Tom stopped mid-step, standing on the second to last stair and glaring darkly at his friend, who had noticed immediately, his mouth stopping along with his feet. "I don't need his help," he hissed.

Avery looked away and then back at him, his blue eyes soft. "No, I didn't mean-"

"-I don't need anyone," Tom said firmly, anger building in his chest and closing down his thoughts one by one. His fingers tingled, and he felt the urge to grab for his wand and hex his friend. He had made it this long, without a family, without parents, without support, or even friends mostly. "_Anyone_."

The blond nodded quickly. He rubbed at the back of his head, avoiding eye contact and shifting uncomfortably. "Right. No, I shouldn't have said it," he said quietly.

The dark-haired wizard closed his eyes slowly and let out a measured breath. He inhaled, as his tense body slowly loosened. He had done better that time. "Good," he said curtly and then took the last two steps to bring him dungeon level. He waved a hand and watched as a trail of light slowly lit the long corridor to the Slytherin common room.

They walked quietly, the only sound their footsteps, Avery's more hesitant than usual, a niggling of something uncomfortable irritated the wizard's chest. "Nagini seemed pleased with herself," he offered.

The blond beside him nodded, letting out a laugh, the sound only slightly strained. "Yeah, I can't believe Malfoy didn't notice her beforehand."

Tom smiled at the memory of the snake sneaking up from behind the smirking pureblood, and the terrified scream that had then fallen from the wizard's lips before she had sunk her fangs into his leg. His only regret was having to have neutralized his familiar's venom in order to have her in the castle; it wasn't fair. She was a predator after all. "He really does remind me more of a witch with his long hair and girlish screams." A soft laugh escaped his lips when Avery agreed wholeheartedly as they neared the Slytherin statue. He hissed the password, ignoring his friend when he reminded him it would open without the Parslemouth. It was one of the only things that had kept his fellow Slytherins from completely marking him as inferior in first year, he would use it whenever he liked.

They stood in the common room, tables and couches half-filled, but the silence was palpable. Slytherins were quiet; something Tom had found himself very pleased with from the start, because he was not a big talker. He clenched his fingers, pumping blood into his extremities as they made their way to the hallway that led to the stairs to their dorm. He hated the cold, almost as much as he hated losing control.

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><p>Harry groaned.<p>

He blinked.

He groaned again.

He blinked a few more times and squinted, his vision blurry, and his head throbbing in time with the blood pulsing through his veins. "Where am I?" he mumbled out loud as he looked around a slightly familiar - but at the same time not familiar at all - room.

"Sixth-year dormitory."

"What? This-" he paused, blinking to try to clear his vision, but it didn't help. He could make out only shapes and green, a lot of green. "Am I in Slytherin?" he asked the faceless voice, his pounding head making critical thinking impossible.

"Yes." The response was hissed. "You are hurt."

Harry nodded slightly, his eyes crinkling in discomfort. "My head."

"You're bleeding," the voice supplied. "Who are you?"

Green eyes blinked. "Who am I?" He felt something brush his fingers, something metal and smooth, and they wrapped around it.

"Your glasses."

Harry's fingers tightened around the eyewear, and he lifted them, placing them on the bridge of his nose carefully as a door opened behind him. "Thank you," he said, his vision coming in to sharp focus on a snake. "You're a snake."

The snake appeared to nod, its chin lowering and then lifting. "Yes. And you are a wizard." The snake lifted up further, peering over his shoulder. "Hello."

"Nagini, who is this?"

Harry turned his head slowly at the oddly familiar voice to find two wizards standing by the door, their wands out but not pointed at him. He tried to think. Did he know them? The blond looked somewhat familiar, maybe - but the black-haired wizard was definitely someone he knew.

He grimaced, rubbing at his forehead: _or someone he had known?_

He met sharp grey eyes, and a feeling burst in his chest, making his blood whoosh in his ears. He cleared his throat, ignoring the odd sensation, not sure of what to make of it.

"I'm Harry," he said, the name sounding not quite right. He pulled his hand away when he touched something wet but tacky, to find blood on his fingertips. "Harry... Potter," he said as he looked down at the scarlet liquid painting his fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

**- Chapter Three -**

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><p>Tom studied the wizard sitting on the floor of his dorm. Harry Potter. The wizard was wearing some type of Quidditch robes, the colors unmistakably Gryffindor, but—But it was not the same style and the color was less muted. The black-haired wizard was still studying his fingers, which were covered in blood, his own apparently.<p>

"Harry Potter?" Avery asked curiously, speaking up from Tom's side, his tone not surprisingly genial to the wizard who had broken into their dorm somehow. "Are you new here?"

The wizard looked up, black eyebrows furrowing, but no response came.

Lips pulled tight. Tom had warded the dorm he shared with Avery himself that morning - knowing Malfoy would most likely seek revenge and not wanting him messing with his possessions to accomplish it. It shouldn't have been possible for _anyone_ to remove them. He had taken them down too just then, and they had been perfectly intact. He took a step, moving further in, letting the door shut behind him, waiting for the soft click to sound before speaking up. "How did you get in here?" he asked, gaze searching for a wand, but finding the wizard's stained hands and the dark wooden floor around him empty.

"I, uh..." the wizard trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing further, and he appeared to be thinking as if something didn't quite make sense. "I... I don't know."

Tom's wand lifted. "I've never seen you before. You're in Gryffindor?"

Harry nodded slowly. He remembered that. He looked down at his robes, Gryffindor robes. Yes, but, everything else was fuzzy, not solid, or maybe clouded was a better description. His head pounded in protest when he tried to concentrate through the fog that was his thoughts, and he placed a hand to his head before sucking in a hiss and pulling it back with more blood coating his fingertips.

"What happened to your head? You've got a nasty cut," Avery said, to which Tom shot him a sharp look.

"I can't remember." He pushed himself up at that, swaying slighty, his headache coming back full force as he stood and making his stomach turn violently. He let out a measured breath and looked down as dots of light swam in his vision. His eyes swung back up to the two Slytherins at the sound of an impatient throat clearing. "I'll just leave," he offered when he noticed the wand pointing in his direction. Although, to where he was not quite sure.

"Just a moment." Tom raised his wand further, the tip pointing at the wizard, who had begun to approach, his movement somewhat unsteady. Grey eyes narrowed. "What year are you?" He was sure he had never seen him before. The lean wizard had a distinct look to him. Pitch black, messy hair and bright green eyes behind perfectly round glasses, but that wasn't why he was so certain. It was the wizard's magical aura. He'd never met anyone with a similar feel. He practically exuded raw magical power, and there was a familiarity to it that simultaneously put him both at ease and on edge, which only aggravated the latter.

Harry hesitated. "Sixth year?" he said, almost disagreeing with himself as soon as he had said it. "I think..." He couldn't remember his years at school or before—

"You're not _sure_?" Tom asked slowly, he met vivid green eyes and pushed forward with his gaze to search—And something like a wall slammed down, shoving his mind back hard, throwing him out almost angrily. He blinked, his head jerking back minutely from the unexpected expulsion from the wizard's mind. That was a first. "Nagini, how did he get in?"

The snake hissed, "He just appeared. I like him."

Harry looked down at the snake - who had slithered closer and was resting near his left foot, its tail resting just on his shoe almost affectionately - his expression surprised. "Just appeared?" he asked the snake, it nodding in response.

"Yes," it hissed.

Tom's fingers tightened around his wand. Apparition was not possible on school grounds, of that there was no question. His gaze flicked sharply between the wizard and his familiar. "You're a Parslemouth?"

Green eyes met his again, and he struggled to maintain eye contact. He clenched his jaw, forcing his gaze to hold steady. He did not like the wizard, not at all, there was something unnerving about him that made him want to run. He did not run away from anyone.

"Yes... is she yours?" the wizard asked, his tone friendly enough despite the hesitance.

"You're not in the position to be asking questions, _Harry Potter_," Tom said, the tension in his body seeping into his words unbidden when he spoke the wizard's name, his apparent growing comfort only aggravating the Slytherin's own discomfort. "You're in our dorm, without permission, and I don't believe you're a student here either, you've been in none of our classes."

"Wait," Avery spoke up, a staying hand landing unwelcome on his friend's sleeve. "Are you Charlus's cousin? Remember Charlus Potter, Tom? He was a seventh year two years ago. Gryffindor."

Harry's eyebrows pulled together at that. He opened his mouth to speak when the door to the dorm suddenly swung open. Three sets of eyes shot over to find a tall grey-haired wizard in purple robes standing in the dorm entryway.

Harry took a small step back, the odd feeling in his chest returning from earlier to try to strangle his heart as he looked upon the man, who he was sure shouldn't be there.

"Mr. Potter," the old wizard said, opening his hands and holding them out in greeting. "I've been expecting you."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Two chapters in less than 24 hours. *shrugs* Just how it is. Heh. Next post will be mostly Tom.

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><p><strong>- Chapter 4 -<strong>

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><p>Harry leaned down and brought himself eye-level with the red-feathered bird perched on the stand in the professor named Dumbledore's room. "Fawkes," he said in a whisper, and the bird tilted its head to the side and then let out a long musical note that the wizard felt resonate somewhere deep inside his mind as it mixed with a familiar memory.<p>

"Yes, you remember him?"

Harry continued to study the unusual bird for a long moment as a disconcerting feeling rushed through his chest at the wizard's softly spoken words. He had felt the same response each time the wizard spoke or he looked at him or met his eyes, or worse, the wizard said his name. But he couldn't figure out if it was a good feeling or a very bad one. He righted himself and turned to look at the expectant wizard, letting out a slow breath that did nothing to relieve the tension growing inside him. "No," he said curtly and looked away from disconcertingly twinkling blue eyes. "Professor..."

"Dumbledore. You don't remember me, Harry?"

Harry ran a hand up into wild black locks and shook his head, irritating the dull ache back to life behind his eyes, his mind feeling frustratingly full of nothing, a dry laugh escaped his lips. "Should I?"

The old wizard let out a heavy sigh. "Harry, it appears you are suffering from memory loss, I have sent for Madam Sundry, the school mediwitch, and Professor Slughorn, our potions professor. They should be able to help."

Harry nodded, the movement agitated.

"Lemon-"

"No," he said sharply and then his expression muddled. _Lemondrop_. He looked up at the wizard, his expression growing wary. The two Slytherin wizards had seemed certain he wasn't a student, and the snake had—"_How_ do I know you?"

The wizard clasped his hands in front of him, his gaze almost severe as he studied him for a long moment, and then his expression began to soften, and he walked around the neatly kept desk and sat down in the chair behind it. He slid a black-encased text labelled _Advanced Transfiguration_ to the side of his desk top as he motioned with a sweeping hand to the seat placed across from him. "Please, have a seat, Harry."

Harry started to refuse, but then his legs seemed to ache as if on cue, and he took the few needed steps and dropped into the offered chair with a huff.

"Yes, we know each other," he said the last words as he dipped his chin and looked over glasses, and then he added smoothly, "But not from here, from another place."

Harry nodded slowly as he tried to justify the wizard's words with his own memories. His eyes squinted when his head pulsed angrily under the mental stress.

"It's best not to push it," the wizard said gently, and when Harry looked up at him he continued, "Sometimes the brain's job is to protect, and it's better to let it heal itself in its own time."

The door opened, and a heavyset wizard in expensive-looking robes strode in alongside a witch dressed in hospital garb.

"Hello, Albus, what have you got here?" the wizard asked as the witch brushed past him with a scowl and placed herself directly in front of the young wizard, crouching down to get a better look at him.

"Albus," the witch said with a frown, her tone scolding as she took Harry's chin in one hand and pulled out her wand with the other, the sound of hushed voices finding the young wizard's ears. "You should've brought him straight to me."

"Sorry Matilda, but I thought it best to have him out of the view of the rest of the student body, and my room is closest."

Her scowl deepened, and she lifted her wand to a wide-eyed Harry. "Calm now," she said in a softer but not overly comforting tone in the wizard's opinion, "I'm just going to fix up your cut. All right?"

Harry swallowed and nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said and closed his eyes when he felt a tingling as his skin stitched itself back together under the spell that felt all-too-familiar and made his stomach swoop. He let out a slow breath as he felt a cold cleansing charm and then the expected itching replaced where the pain once had been.

"There, now don't scratch it, that'll subside soon enough." She released her hand from Harry's chin and then said, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Harry shook his head as he met purple eyes. "No, ma'am, I don't think so."

"You don't think so? What happ-"

"Thank you Matilda, that'll be enough for now. I will send Mr. Potter to you once we are done here so you can check over him once more."

The witch stood quickly at the dismissive words, giving Harry a view of the wizard named Dumbledore and the plump well-dressed wizard on his side of the desk, the latter standing more upright and smoothing his robes in an offhanded manner.

"Very well, Professor."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed when the witch made an agitated noise and then left, the clicks of her shoes heavier leaving than they had been coming. He scooted to the edge of his seat when the door shut.

"No need to worry, Harry," the older wizard said, and Harry's teeth clenched. "Professor Slughorn and I just have a few questions for you." The two wizards smiled at him, and Harry's frown deepened.

"...All right," he shifted in his seat and felt something move under his shirt, something metal. He lifted his hand absentmindedly to touch it but stopped halfway when he noticed the two sharp sets of eyes on him, studying him. He let his hand drop to his lap once more. "What is it you need to know?"

The potions professor moved around the desk, and his smile grew more saccharin. "Harry, can I call you that?"

Harry nodded reluctantly.

"Splendid," the wizard said, a gleam lighting in his eyes as he met Harry's, and then suddenly blurred pictures and muffled voices filled the young wizard's head, the collage of senses not solid, slipping into each other and mixing. Harry jerked his gaze away with a start and settled it on the bird in the corner, receiving a soothing long note in response. "Sorry, had to check. I can't make sense of it, Albus. It's almost as if it's changing."

A heavy silence filled the room for a few beats. "Do you remember anything, Harry, when you try? Anything leading up to now? Any specific people, objects, a message? Maybe a plan? Don't strain yourself, it would be something easy to remember."

Harry slowly turned his gaze back on the professor. "No." And then something did flash in his head. The snake, the dark-haired wizard's familiar, her mouth open, fangs bared. And the name 'Voldemort,' like a whisper echoing in his head, as if the name was calling to him, beckoning him. He shook his head. "No, nothing."

"Are you sure, Harry? It could be very important."

Harry looked up at the softly spoken words to meet deep blue eyes. "Nothing that makes any sense," he said truthfully.

The old wizard nodded in understanding, holding up a hand to silence the other wizard when he started to speak. "Very well, perhaps we will give it more time." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk in front of him, clasping his hands as he held Harry's gaze. "I believe you were sent here for a reason Harry, and until we know what that reason is, it would be best if you not tell any of the students how you really arrived here."

Harry blinked. "But I don't know how I got here."

The potions professor spoke up. "I'd say a poorly charmed port key should suffice, if anyone should ask. You did say Tom and Avery found him, so I'll talk to them myself. But I daresay that a defective port key has been the downfall of one too many a good wizard, so no one should question it. Remember Zachariah Bagstown? He was found in the middle of the wall in his study, two weeks after the fact."

The older wizard nodded in a agreeable fashion. "I do, Horace." He looked to Harry, grey eyebrows lifting. "Are you okay with that, Harry? Just until we've worked all this out."

Harry shifted back into his seat as he studied the two wizards, settling on the older one finally. "I suppose so... You know me, you said, we know each other?"

The man took in a slow breath. "I do in a different time."

Dark eyebrows pulled together, pinching the skin between them. "Meaning?"

"Meaning... I know you're not a danger to anyone here," he paused at that, seeming to think over his words. He then added more slowly, "More importantly, I know that you belong here for whatever reason and that you are worthy of my trust."

Harry swallowed hard, an odd feeling itching in his chest, and he lifted a hand and scratched at it idly over his robes, his fingers pushing around the chain still hidden underneath. It was hard to believe the wizard's words, any of them, but especially that he belonged there, when he didn't know what he had left behind. "But why can't I remember anything? What am I doing here? Where did I come from?" The questions seeming to blurt out all at once.

"Ah, well, I can answer the second question for you," the wizard said more cheerfully. Green eyes met blue orbs.

"You are here to go to school." The bearded wizard leaned over and lifted a large dusty and torn hat from behind his desk and placed it on top, pushing it to the edge, to rest in front of the young wizard.

"Let's see where you will be placed, shall we?"


End file.
